


Mousetrap

by OwlOfDeath



Series: Beyond Sand and Sea [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Character Development, Fantasy, Guilt, M/M, Magic, Mild Sexual Content, Original Character(s), Pirates, Sexual Inexperience, Shyness, Survivor Guilt, Vulpera/Human Relationship, vulpera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlOfDeath/pseuds/OwlOfDeath
Summary: Jona has lost his brother, been separated from his family and finds himself indentured to a pirate ship with a debt so steep he can never hope to pay it off by working on board. But there are still those on the crew he has yet to meet...
Relationships: Hashin Clearwell/Jona
Series: Beyond Sand and Sea [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792156
Comments: 9
Kudos: 3





	Mousetrap

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place roughly one year after the events of [The Blame Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778993).  
> Or around 7 years after the events of [Stuck in the Middle (with You)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858484) from my other series [His Lingering Scent](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798504).

He knocked on the door gently as he balanced the tray, patiently waiting for a reply in spite of the ache growing in his arms from its weight. If it was one thing they had beat into him during his time on the ship thus far it was to tread carefully, and be quick about it. The importance of hierarchy on board was unquestionable, and he was at the very bottom of the pack.

"Navigator Clearwell, I have wine for you. It's from the captain." Jona leaned closer to the door as he heard a muffled "enter" from within, and pushing the handle down with his elbow he slowly eased the heavy door open with his back.

He was standing with his hands spread to either side of a large sea chart, long fingers splayed to hold the curling sides flat against the table. A pair of compasses and other course plotting tools were scattered towards one corner of the map, ready for use. There was the tiniest of frowns on his face as he looked up, clearly not enjoying the interruption.

"Oh, the cabin boy. You can put the tray by the bed," he said flatly as he watched him momentarily with a slight arch of his brow, before returning to his charts. Jona lifted the tray past the table carefully, taking extra care not to tip anything over with his large tail in the cramped space, the glass decanter swaying and making the wine slosh ever so slightly. The cabin was just big enough to fit the table and bed, but the furniture was well-made solid wood, carved and polished, all of it nailed to the floor except for the heavy chair pushed up against the table. 

There were two cabins on board the pirate ship the Bloody Queen, the larger one belonging to the captain and the other usually the first mate, or some dignified guest. But Navigator Hashin Clearwell had somehow found a way to snatch it up from under the first mate's nose. Jona had overheard the sailors gossiping all about it. The first mate had been furious, and then he'd been promptly replaced. Captain Forester was very fond of his navigator, apparently, who used to be a member of the Kirin Tor; a real catch to have a mage of that caliber working on the ship. That a man in his early thirties with no real seafaring experience could gain such a position so quickly had the whole crew speculating. 

Rumors circulating seemed to be that the mage-turned-navigator had left Dalaran right after the purge, and that he'd been involved with a blood elf that was killed there. Some said he had left because he was heartbroken, others because he was afraid he'd be next. Whichever it was the men on board loved to talk about it whenever there was a dull moment. There was little else to do but gossip, smoke and drink when your shift was over out on the open seas.

Jona put the tray down gently on the tiny bedside table making sure that the pins slid into the holes so that it would stay securely in place in spite of the ship's movements. It wasn't until he turned to leave that he realized the wall behind Hashin was covered in books. The shelves were filled beyond capacity reaching from the floor to the ceiling all along the wall. Countless spines of different size and shape and in every colour he knew the name of, and some he didn't, looked back at him. Most languages he didn't understand, but one stood out, and he tilted his head to the side to more easily read the title. ' _Leylines, or how to ride the magic tram, by Therin Spaz._ ' He furrowed his brow trying to make sense of it as he heard a polite cough behind him, snapping him back from his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder to find Hashin regarding him closely.

"See anything you like?"

"I, well, I'm not sure I— Apologies."

"But you do read?"

"Yes sir."

"Who taught you, did you go to school?"

"My parents... taught me, sir."

"What for? It's not like you need to read to.." he paused for a moment, regarding Jona as if he was trying to figure out what people like him usually do. Then he seemed to give up, because he went with the obvious. "Work on a ship."

"My family, we would find old scrolls and books in the ruins and sands of Vol'dun sometimes. There was some trade between us and the tortollans there; they collect all kinds of written word. Anyway, I enjoyed reading them, sir."

Hashin's attention seemed to perk up, the lines on his forehead smoothing out as his focus was fully diverted away from the charts on the table. "Did you tell me your name?"

"It's Jona, sir."

"The one all the sailors call Mouse."

"I suppose some do... sir."

He gave a soft chuckle, barely audible, and Jona could feel the blush rise to his cheeks. He didn't exactly like that nickname, he knew what they meant by it and it wasn't anything nice. They'd call him a rat, if they thought he could be as fierce as one. Instead they had settled for the meeker of the two.

"Thanks for the wine then," Hashin said with a thin smile that still somehow reached his eyes and gestured at the door, then hesitated. "Would you like to borrow any?"

"Any... what, sir?" 

"Books, I have more than enough to spare a few for a time. Just don't let any of the sailors play with them; those crude monkeys wouldn't know what to do beyond tearing out the pages to wipe themselves." 

"I... could I? I promise I'll look after them." 

Hashin laughed suddenly, waving it away, "I've no doubt you will."

He had an easy smile and was quick to laugh, it reminded Jona of someone. He quickly and forcefully pushed the thought away, far back into the dark depths of his mind. His heart suddenly beat faster, after so many weeks of being ridiculed and pushed around any small kindness made him emotional. He looked at his feet for a moment, trying to take a breath without looking too flustered.

"Let's see," Hashin turned to the shelf and quickly picked out three books, as if he knew where every single one was and exactly which ones he wanted, "just return them when you're done." 

Jona nodded and extended his arms, accepting the heavy volumes and pressing them to his chest protectively. Life on board the Bloody Queen suddenly felt that little bit more bearable. 

\- - -

_The next day..._

The mood in the cabin had changed since the day before. Hashin looked bored more than thoughtful, draped across the chair with a cigarette gone half-way to ashes dangling loosely between his lips and a glass of wine stained with use balancing on the armrest. As Jona entered the room with the tray he grunted briefly, gesturing at the bedside table with a cock of his head. 

"Oh it's you again. Mouse, right?" 

"Or Jona, sir." 

"The cabin boy who can read," he mused, a twitch of a smile passing over his mouth. "So are you going to bring me my wine from here on, then?"

"If that's what Captain Forester tells me to do, sir." 

"'Sir'... so formal. Well I don't mind that, we've just met after all." Jona went around the table and crossed the small distance to the bed, leaving the tray there as Hashin went on, his eyes following him closely. "Captain Forester and I had a little chat about you last night over dinner. He didn't know about your talents."

"The subject never came up, I suppose," he tried, feeling a little uncomfortable under Hashin's watchful gaze. He turned for the door, but was interrupted as the man continued.

"Aren't you a little old to be a _cabin boy_ , anyway?"

"The captain thinks I'm too weak to handle the duties of a real sailor. They complained that I got in their way."

"Too weak? Can't you defend yourself... Mouse?"

Jona froze, feeling the man's eyes bore into him, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. The air in the cabin was close, suddenly tense with a feeling not unlike anticipation. An atmosphere he had learned to pick up on after weeks on the ship; a precursor to violence. The man's gaze was predatory.

"If that's all, then," he started, betrayed by the anxiety in his voice, his body suddenly taut like a bowstring with the compulsion to flee. He took a step to leave but Hashin was quick on his feet, partially blocking his way.

In an instant Jona tried to traverse the table in front of him to run for the door, but Hashin was faster. He grabbed his ankle and jerked it, making his chest slam against the tabletop, and then hauled him back a little to place a firm hand on the scruff of his neck, the other on his shoulder.

"Going somewhere without leave?" he asked softly. He ran his hands down the sides of Jona's back. He could feel his thumbs firmly on either side of his spine through the fabric of his shirt, his fingertips running along the curve of his ribs. Hashin's body pressed suddenly against his as he leaned over him, his hands gripping right above his hip bones. "Don't be scared, I won't hurt you" he whispered, his breath hot against Jona's ear. "Unless that's what you want me to do..."

With a movement too sudden to react to Jona found himself flipped onto his back, facing Hashin. At first he thought about kicking him away, but found he was too scared to try. This wasn't just one of the sailors, he was the navigator of the ship, and even if he got away he would have nowhere to run.  
Instead he found himself just staring back at him, trapped in a half-motion, his chest heaving from his quick breaths.

As Hashin raised his hand Jona flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a blow, but it never came. Instead he felt a slight brush against the fur of his cheek. He waited for one breath, two, three, but nothing happened. With his heart in this throat he opened his eyes into glistening slits, only to find he was looking straight into Hashin's eyes, his face suddenly very close. They were the darkest of browns.

Hashin cupped his jaw in his hand, a finger curled around his chin as he leaned in and kissed him, pulling his face closer to his own. His other hand reached down towards the small of his back, lifting the hem of his shirt lightly. It sent shivers from his toes all the way to the top of his head as Hashin ran his fingertips trickling through his fur, brushing it back the wrong way, making his way slowly up his back.

With a simple stroke of his thumb he teased his mouth open, Hashin's wine-sour tongue lapping against his own, warm and wet. The response from his body was immediate, and it made him blush fiercely, cheeks burning to the very tips of his long ears. What kind of _game_ was he playing?

He'd been kissed before, girls leaning in towards him with their eyes closed and lips puckered shyly. Their cheeks blushing as their lips met. It had been nice, but he'd never understood what the big deal was. Never really cared.

This was different, so very different; another world. Could you even use the same word to describe it? Was this really okay? He was conflicted between fear and excitement, it had never crossed his mind to be with a man before, but now, Hashin's body so close, his senses felt like they were on fire. It felt good.

He clenched his hands where they were holding him up from the table, struggling with the urge to wrap his arm around Hashin's neck and pull him even closer, to dig his fingers into his black, wavy locks. He was breathing heavier now, and as the kiss momentarily broke it was like coming up to the surface for a breath. Hashin released his face and used both hands to pull Jona's shirt over his head, the action so insistent and natural he didn't even think to object. Their lips were still so close he could feel the warmth of his mouth. A muddled thought formed hot and sticky at the back of his mind, barely registering, more a sensation than a word. This is it, he thought, dazed. _This is it_. Part of him realized that he had stopped struggling, and the other part of him no longer cared.

\- - -

_A few weeks later..._

They'd kept offering him cigarettes, and he'd always refused until one day when he was too cold, wet, tired and hungry to bother anymore. The acrid smoke from the badly rolled cigarette tasted awful and burned his throat, his lungs, making him cough and filling his mouth with sour spit from the nausea. But ever since that first taste he'd always come back for more.

Jona accepted the cigarette, lighting it against the glowing end of Hashin's as he leaned in and took a long, greedy drag. His body felt so heavy, spent, and the smoke however foul tickled his throat and made him feel almost like he was floating as his body relaxed. He tried not to move too much, ignoring the many aches in his body, from Hashin's eagerness, the long hours of working on the ship and the slaps and shoves from the other sailors when he wasn't being strong, fast or brave enough to meet their standards.

But these calm moments also came with a nagging anxiety, never knowing if he'd be allowed to stay. When he had work or was in a mood Navigator Clearwell had no qualms about kicking him out, and on the nights he got turned out from Hashin's bed he rarely got any sleep; it was the safest place on the ship for him. 

There was a hammock in the sleeping quarters for him, but he never dared to sleep there anymore. The men had made sport out of kicking him out of it in the middle of the night, putting out their cigarettes on him when he was sleeping or finding some other cruel way to amuse themselves on his behalf, knowing there was nothing he could do about it. Usually he'd sneak into the cargo hold to rest, being the only one small enough to slip all the way inside when the hold was filled with goods and booty. It was always too cold, or too hot, but at least the men couldn't get to him there. Once he'd woken up to find a rat the size of his head gnawing on the hem of his blanket, and since then sleep wouldn't come easy to him even there. But tonight it seemed he would get to stay in the cabin.

Hashin stood up and stretched, casual as a tomcat on his home turf as he picked his robes off the back of the chair and slipped into them, before draping himself across the seat in their place. Even pulling something over his head he somehow managed to look graceful, composed, unlike Jona who could get lost putting his shirt on. He watched the man prop his elbow up on the armrest, chin in one hand and his smoke in the other. "Did you finish the books I gave you?"

"Two of them." 

"I see, and the third?"

"I... don't read Thalassian."

Hashin raised a brow, and then put the cigarette at the corner of his mouth, letting it dangle there loosely as he swirled around in his chair to face the bookshelves. "I think I got that in Common." He stood and leaned over as he scrutinized the spines, smoke rising above him like a chimney. "Right... eh... hmm... ahh... Here!"

He slipped his finger above the book and slid it from the shelf, leaving a gaping hole in the row of neatly packed volumes. The book looked twice as thick as the one he had been given in Thalassian, but sounded at least three times as heavy when it was dropped onto the table. Jona stared at it in disbelief, and Hashin seemed to read his mind. "Elven is the language of magic, when you translate it the text easily grows twice as long and half as coherent."

Hashin slumped back into the chair, his eyes tracing past the table and then towards the bed, finally landing on the decanted wine and glasses on the bedside table. "I spoke with the captain again a few nights ago," Hashin started, his little finger aligned to the side of his nose as his head rested against his palm, watching Jona shuffle closer to the edge of the bed to drop the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. "He seems to agree that you would make a better scholar than pirate." 

"That's pretty obvious..." he said, his voice low as he poured some wine into one of the glasses, then pulling the sheets closer around his waist he moved further down the bed towards Hashin's extended hand. The mage gave the tiniest of amused smirks.

"Though I better teach you some Thalassian, I think, or this is going to be painful for both of us."

"What is?"

"Me teaching you magic. He actually agreed to it. Can you believe I managed to convince him you'd be more help if I taught you a few tricks? I've been mentioning it for a while but that man takes his sweet time deciding on anything. I think he just enjoys feeling like he's in charge, really." The casual tone of his voice didn't go together with the implications of his words.

"Ah—" Jona started, then trailed off and simply stared back from where he was sitting in the middle of the bed, one hand still holding the bunched up sheets.

"But don't get too excited, you won't be holding any meaningful conversations with any elves with that stuff; it'll just be technical terminology and grammar, some phrases used for spell craft. Maybe a few swear words."

"What are you saying?" Jona asked cautiously, trying to keep his voice level as his heart started to thump violently. 

Hashin put the wine up to his nose and inhaled slowly, clearly relishing the moment, like he'd won a battle he could finally boast about. "He gave me a couple of restrictions of course, added some conditions, insisted on a few compromises. But I can work with that." He leaned forward and tapped the ashes from his smoke onto the nearby plate left after the meal. The one Jona had brought him earlier.

Jona felt a twinge in his chest. Hope, maybe? He didn't dare to wallow in it, instead he tried to close his heart quickly before the disappointment could come rushing in. But it didn't help; Hashin's confident smile was enough to pry at the cracks in those walls, widening the gaps.

"Congratulations Mouse, it seems I'll be making a mage out of you, after all."


End file.
